


Before We Rest

by salienne



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-12
Updated: 2007-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salienne/pseuds/salienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“My stepmother called today.”</i> A late-night conversation between Cameron and Chase.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before We Rest

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** It was [](http://enigma731.livejournal.com/profile)[**enigma731**](http://enigma731.livejournal.com/) ’s birthday a few days back, and I asked her what she wanted. Her response: some hurt/comfort fic. Well, this has some of that, though it’s mainly a good deal of Chase/Cameron fluff. Hope y’all (and especially you, m’dear birthday girl) enjoy!

It is nearly one in the morning, and as is typical for the two of them, Cameron and Chase are not yet asleep. He sits on the couch, his eyes dimly fixed on the murmuring television, as she makes decaffeinated tea, berry-flavored for herself and cinnamon for him. Once done, she flips off the light and blinks to adjust to the new darkness. Now, the only illumination in the apartment comes from the television in the next room, and if it weren’t for the window in the wall between the kitchen and the living room, she would be in blackness. She steps into the hallway, pads over to the couch, hands him his drink (he nods in thanks), and sits down on the middle cushion, sipping. He takes a drink and sets the mug down on the coffee table.

“My stepmother called today.”

Cameron jumps a little at the sound, her teeth clacking against the ceramic, and she turns her head to the right. Chase is still staring forward at the television, the colors weaving across his face with such vitality that she can almost pretend she sees some emotion there. If she didn’t know him as well as she does, she would think this was a casual comment, a way to break the tedium of television or make small talk before they conquer insomnia and go to bed.

Except she can see the set of his jaw, the forced stillness that is almost tension in every limb, in the hand that lies on the arm of the couch, in the tilt of his chin, in the legs that are not splayed but held stiff, knees together, in the hand clasping the remote there on his lap.

“What did she want?” Cameron asks. She keeps her eyes on Chase, watching him, even though he will only glance at her.

“My dad. There’s, um, she’s holding a memorial service for him. For all the great things he’s done.” Cameron can hear his eyes rolling, though she doesn’t need to; she can see his face. She shifts closer and takes his hand, keeping the mug balanced on the cushion beside her. At the contact, he looks at her, his blue eyes bathed in shadow and so somber and so beautiful. She wants to hug him, but she doesn’t. She knows that he needs to talk first, not just hold her and breathe, not yet. After a pause, he continues. “You never talked to my dad, did you? Besides that diagnosis. You never got to know him.”

She shakes her head.

“Good.” He turns his head and sits back, tugging lightly on her hand. She puts the mug on the coffee table and moves closer, cuddling into him. With his arms around her and the back of her head resting on his chest, he asks how her day has been.

“Better than yours, apparently.” He smirks, though she can’t see it, only hear it in his sudden exhale.

“No more run-ins with the betting pool?”

“No,” she replies. “Just a car crash and a lot of broken bones.”

“Lots of tree-climbing going on?”

“Yoga.”

“Seriously?”

She laughs. “Yeah. Osteoporosis and scorpion poses don’t mix.”

A silence, a comfortable one, passes, as half-lidded eyes take in doctors hurrying to and fro and conversations taking place with gripped arms and secret rendezvous, the patients almost always forgotten. They’re watching _General Hospital_ , a show House once watched, still watches. Cameron brings her eyes up, can just see Chase’s chin and nose. “Are you going?”

“Going to what?”

“Robert.”

He sighs and shifts under her. They readjust their bodies and settle back together. “I have work. I can’t,” he says.

“Take some vacation time. Cuddy won’t mind.”

“I’ll mind.”

“I know.” Another silence, this one not quite so comfortable. “You should go.”

He snorts. “To do what? Hear about what a great guy my father was, what a brilliant doctor, how he just tried so hard and that makes up for everything? To look at old photographs and hear everyone talk about how much they miss him and settle down and cry? No thanks.”

“No,” she replies. She turns to face him, to meet his eyes with hers. “To say goodbye.” He breathes in deeply and looks away, so she puts a hand to his cheek. Beneath her fingertips, she feels the stubble and clenched jaw. “You loved your dad, Robert. You loved him a lot. You can’t forget that by watching TV and cutting people open. You can’t pretend he just didn’t exist.”

“I don’t need to forget,” he replies. “I’m over it. I got over it two years ago.”

“No,” Cameron responds, “you didn’t.”

He gets up. “I did.”

She says nothing.

Chase looks at her, his eyebrows knit together, and with a sigh that sounds almost like a groan, he begins pacing. “You know, I went to seminary for that man. I thought, if I can just figure out how this whole forgiveness thing works, if I can just pray enough and study enough, then I can do it. I can forgive the man who left my mom to drink herself to death and left me to watch. You know what I figured out?” He stops and looks at her. “It was a lot easier when I just didn’t care.”

She nods and glances down, looks back up again. “Think if you keep saying that you’ll convince yourself?”

He purses his lips and, almost comically, puts his hands on his hips. “Yes. Yes I do.”

She smiles, and if he were in a better mood, she knows he would too. Instead, he just puts a hand to his head, running his nails through his scalp and tugging at his hair as he paces anew. “This was over. This is over. This ended two years ago. I don’t even work for _House_ anymore. Everything was supposed to calm down now. It was supposed to relax. What do I get instead? A memorial.”

This time, she doesn’t suppress her instincts. She stands, walks over, and puts her arms around him. He tenses for a moment, wishing to run, she knows, to yell and rave at the unfairness of it all, all the while keeping that exterior of his so very very calm. But then he relaxes, pulling her even closer, the arms around her so tight they almost hurt. His hold is firm, his arms and chest muscular, his ribs pressing against her, but she doesn’t mind. She finds it comforting, even thrilling, that this man has come to rely upon her. She can hear and feel the sharp intake of breath at her ear. “Think if Cuddy fires me I’ll have an excuse not to go?”

“Possibly,” she says. “Or your stepmom’ll just think you have more free time.”

“Now that would be _very_ her.”

For another moment, he continues holding her, his lips at her temples and forehead, his breath on her skin. With her face at his neck, she can still smell the faintest hint of aftershave beneath the salty tinge of sweat he has acquired during the day. He must be exhausted, but even if his stepmother had not called, Cameron knows he would still be up. She only made it home half an hour ago, and it has become increasingly difficult for either of them to fall asleep when the other is not there. Something about the company, about not being alone anymore—they’ve both gotten used to it.

“I love you, you know,” he murmurs.

While the words and sentiment once terrified her, now all Cameron can do is smile and pull back, meeting his gaze. “I know.” She kisses him, long and deep, before pulling back. “Love you too.” Even under the circumstances, this sentence still makes him grin. She kisses him again, just a peck, and steps back. “Are you gonna go?”

Chase sighs. “I don’t know.”

She nods and takes his hand. “Let’s go to bed,” she says. “You have to wake up at six.”

“And you have to wake up at five-thirty.”

“Guess sleep is a really good idea then.” She pauses, tilts her head, and gives him the look and tone she knows he loves. “Or not.”

This time he does chuckle, just a little, even though they both know that all they’ll be up to tonight is some fast and furious sleeping. But at this particular moment, Cameron knows that this lightheartedness, this distraction, is exactly what Chase needs. Even though he hasn’t told her the specifics, she had deduced that this memorial won’t be for a few months, a few weeks at the least, and he doesn’t need to make the decision yet. If he tries to, he’ll just end up tossing and turning and worrying all night, coming into work the next morning with coffee, a headache, and the should-I-go, should-I-not-go still running through his head. If he wants to talk once they lie down, he will. She’ll listen. But what he needs more than that, what he needs right now, is her, the knowledge that he is not alone, and rest.

He kisses her and, letting her go ahead, finds the remote and shuts off the television, so that they are no longer walking in shadows but darkness. This apartment is still new to them, and if she were not already at the bedroom door, she would have stumbled either on the coffee table or a stray cord. She halts and turns, waiting for him, a silhouette of black in a sea of the darkest gray. “Think my dad would approve of surgery?” he asks.

She barely hesitates. “Yes,” she says.

He pauses, both in step and speech, and for a moment, she is worried. Then he shakes his head and says, “Yeah.” He looks up. “Let’s go to bed.”

Cameron nods and waits until his hand is at the small of her back. The two of them leave the room.


End file.
